


Filling in the Pieces

by CheshireCity



Series: 12 Days of Christmas 2015 [5]
Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: :RE Pre-Chapter 32, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Holidays, M/M, Momma Haise, Spoilers for :re, Temporary Amnesia, Western name ordering, gaming lingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 21:57:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5472110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheshireCity/pseuds/CheshireCity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having very much survived his encounters three years ago, Koutarou Amon is faced with yet another struggle: preparing a holiday chicken for an office dinner party. His neighbor - whose history he knows better than the man himself - catches drift of his burnt attempts and offers a hand, teaching him the proper way to cook.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Filling in the Pieces

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chocolatemoosey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocolatemoosey/gifts).



> As the tags suggest, this is an AU wherein Amon never died/went missing at the end of Tokyo Ghoul. He has survived and is an active employee of the CCG while being the next door neighbor of Haise Sasaki, who he knows in Ken Kaneki. Just an excuse for Amonsaki fluff, this piece would fit into altered canon before chapter 32 of :RE.
> 
> Posted in time for Kaneki's birthday!

            Of all the things that Koutarou Amon was, he was not a cook. This was something he was beyond certain of and he had proved to be true on numerous occasions. He burned or scalded or overcooked just about everything he set his hands to. Which was why, despite his healthier leanings and borderline obsessive hobby of working out, he ate almost nothing but ramen and takeout. He was, quite terminally, a bachelor to the finest degree.

            This being the case, Koutarou Amon was not above trying his damnedest. Which is to say, one Koutarou Amon was a stubborn fuck who was too prideful (or technologically illiterate) to figure out how to do things the proper way. Which led to him holed up in his apartment’s kitchen fretting over the stove and hoping against hope that he wasn’t making a complete mess of the holiday chicken.

It wasn’t like he wouldn’t just buy _himself_ KFC for Christmas dinner – he had already preordered it like most everyone else – but this was something special. Rather, a particular bossy blonde had instructed him that all CCG members were supposed to bring something homemade to the forget-the-old-year party and he was not excluded from those obligations. Granted, it was two days away, right after Christmas itself, but the anxiety of the order was enough to have him attempting practice chickens ahead of schedule. Not that Akira Mado _could_ order _him_ of course, she was just… better pleased than pushed.

            Unconsciously, he bit at his lip, arms braced backwards against the countertop in his usual stiff posture as he eyed the oven. It wasn’t as if the whole thing would conflagrate at any minute, but Amon didn’t really want to press his luck. After all, he’d already ruined one chicken that evening. Guiltily, he turned his attention to the sink where it sat, charbroiled, in its tin tray. “What am I going to do with you?” he muttered, drawing his fingers through his short locks. He didn’t particularly relish the thought of parading his failure around outside where neighbors would notice (even if that was the best way to get to the communal trash). “Maybe some stray cats will want it?” he dubiously questioned aloud. Using a fork, he prodded at the blackened flesh, watching dispiritedly as bits flaked off and stuck to the basin below. “Yeah, probably not.”

            _BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP_

            “Oh shit, not again!” Amon groaned, whirling back around just in time to see his next attempt catching ablaze. Quickly, he turned off the oven and waited, forehead in hand, for the fire to die down. He’d educated himself at least that far (but only because he wanted his deposit back whenever he finally moved out). Already he could detect the smoke choking its way down his nose. He’d regret that in the morning when he woke up with a sore throat. As calmly as he could muster, he reached up the wall and disabled the smoke detector for the second time that day. “Humiliating,” he grumbled to himself.

            Just as he was about to begin hosing down his first burnt shame, there was a tentative knock at the door. Amon froze, genuinely uncertain what to do. On one hand, he was always polite and it would be rude to just ignore whoever was out there. On the other, if he opened the door there was no way they wouldn’t know that he had just successively ruined two entire chickens, what with the kitchen opening up right into the foyer. He must have paused long enough, because a second knock resounded, and, with a self-begrudging sigh, Amon found himself shutting off the sink and sauntering up to the door.

            Unbolting the lock, he leaned on the frame, hoping to obscure as much of the house as possible with his broad body. Steeling himself, he opened the door a few inches. “Good evening?”

            “Ah… good evening,” a gentle voice replied. On the step, framed by the glinting of buildings that comprised Tokyo at sunset was a familiar face.

            “Sasaki-kun,” the older man blurted out. The almost-black haired man smiled in acknowledgement. The sight sent odd constrictions through Amon’s chest. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t erase the earnest face of the boy who had come before the CCG worker before him now. The face of a scared child, obscured by a grotesque mask, tears spilling over the tooled leather. He had instantly desired to know more about the ghoul – why he was crying, why he had spared a human. But he never had the chance to ask. Amon was almost afraid he’d never get the chance, almost as much as he feared he someday suddenly would.

            Sasaki stared up at him smilingly, as transient as the daylight around him. It hurt to think that one day he might disappear. He’d lost enough friends and coworkers without the concern of having to kill them for knowing too much. It was almost too much to stomach.

            “Hey,” he began, begging his tongue into submission. “I’m surprised to see you here. I mean, I know you live on the other side of me, but we don’t come across one another much. What’s up?”

            The younger man laughed good-naturedly at his superior’s awkwardness, cocking his head as if he knew something secret. “Ah, well, Amon-san? I was wondering if everything was alright? I think I heard the smoke alarm a few times?”

            “Oh, ah, that,” Amon returned, having absolutely nothing to say in his own defense. “It’s nothing, sorry to bother you.”

            “I’m not bothered, you know,” the other reassured him. “I was just wondering if maybe you would like some help?”

            “Help?”

            “Well… it seems a bit smoky from here, to be honest.”

            “Right…” Amon exhaled in defeat. “I, uh, burned a chicken. Not a live chicken, of course,” he added hastily. “I was just… cooking… and it… went off. The oven, I mean.”

            ‘ _Wow,’_ he mentally assessed. ‘ _Smooth.’_

            “May I?” Sasaki requested, smile turning imperceptibly into a smirk.

            “Might as well…” Amon conceded, stepping back and allowing the other man into his home. Anxiously he hung back, watching as the young investigator strode about the kitchen, taking stock of everything in quick succession.

            “You did well not to open the oven door, Amon-san,” the younger man praised lightly. “That could have made things a lot worse – most people panic and try that first thing.”

            “Ah… thank you,” the older man accepted, unable to keep from feeling a little bit of pride at the compliment (even if it was from a subordinate coworker).

            “It looks like the fire is out now,” Sasaki continued, carefully lowering the oven door. Immediately, smoke wafted out, and the monochrome man winced.

            _‘Right, he’s still part ghoul, even if he looks like this now,’_ Amon reminded himself. _‘That smell has got to be ten times worse to him.’_

            “Amon-san, if you could start opening some windows, that might help with the smell,” the other instructed, forcing a smile. “And also, where are your potholders? I need to remove the… food.”

            ‘ _Oh God, he can’t even tell what it was,’_ Amon sighed.

            “They’re to the right of the oven,” he replied, setting about the windows obediently. “Under the cooking chopsticks and ladles and things.”

            Really, he didn’t know why he had all that cookware. Other than some sort of distorted belief that as an adult, he really out to be well-equipped. Or at least have a kitchen less embarrassing than his own skill level. It was for reasons like that that his coworkers would laugh at him and insist he needed a, “woman about the house”. Not that his inclinations would allow him to be interested in that sort of thing.

            He watched out of the corner of his eye as Sasaki extracted the burnt fowl from the oven, turning around and stopping short as he noticed the previous burned carcass in the sink. “Oh,” he said simply. Coloring instantly, he set the second attempt on the counter and began clearing the mess away.

            “It’s alright,” Amon sighed. “It’s pretty embarrassing of me, isn’t it?”

            “Well I wouldn’t say _embarrassing_ –”

            “Pathetic, then?”

            “Ah…”

            “It’s fine, really. I can’t cook for anything,” Amon admitted. “Not that that can come as much surprise to you now.”

            “Anyone can learn to cook,” Sasaki returned with certainty. “It just takes the right amount of experience and patience. You’ve certainly got the… ah, ambition?”

            “You don’t need to be nice about it.”

            “I started off about as bad,” the other continued. “Arima-san had to teach me, and I sort of picked it up from there. I’m… not sure if it’s something I knew before,” he admitted, sending a curious glance to his superior. Amon looked away. “But I picked it up fairly quickly after that. Perhaps you just need someone to show you?”

            “Perhaps,” the older man replied dubiously.

            “Would you like to watch me cook, Amon-san? If that’s not too presumptuous of me to offer, of course. I’m in the middle of cooking dinner for myself and the others.”

            “Your children, you mean?” the taller man asked in a rare try at teasing. The Quinx squad was well known of in the CCG’s ranks, along with their leaders, Haise Sasaki and Akira Mado. The association was enough to garner the two foul looks and a lack of cooperation, but it didn’t seem to bother them any. That being said, the squad of half-ghouls were jokingly considered Sasaki’s “children” – whether that was because he made the joke himself or because he was half-ghoul as well was anyone’s guess.

            Sasaki laughed, brightening instantly. “Yeah, my children. I left one of them to mind the stove, so I’m not too worried, but I wouldn’t want to be away for too long.”

            “Of course.”

            “If you’d like to come over, I could serve you, as well?”

            “Ah…” Amon surveyed his smoke-filled apartment with the two decimated chickens and arrived at a quick answer. “Yeah, actually, that sounds like a wonderful offer, thank you.”

            “Of course,” the other smiled. “Let me just…”

            “Yeah, just leave it. I’ll… figure _something_ out later,” Amon yielded. “If you would?” he added, gesturing that Sasaki lead the way. Stopping to grab his coat, keys, and wallet, Amon filed out after the younger investigator, locking up his apartment and hoping that the smell didn’t bother any of the other neighbors. Given that it was Christmas Eve, he hoped most of them would be out with their loved ones, anyway.

            ‘ _Only loveless loners like me are alone on a holiday like this, after all,’_ he noted.

            The home next door was more of a suite than a conventional apartment. Being a CCG-controlled building, the complex was filled of mostly investigators, office workers, and the odd DOVE-rescued orphan that was old enough to live on their own. The suite at the building’s corner was known colloquially as the chateau, which was pretty fitting, considering as the standard investigator’s apartment was lucky to have one bedroom, while the suite had eight (three of which were unoccupied). Amon had always been curious about the fabled chateau, but he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t say it made him uneasy to walk into a home filled with a half dozen half-ghouls.

            “I’m back!” Sasaki called as he walked through the entry.

            “Maman!” a youthful voice cried out immediately. A round-faced girl with fluffy twin tails padded out from the open kitchen, arms outstretched.

            Sasaki laughed and gave the girl a quick hug, ruffling her hair. “I was only gone for a moment, Saiko. And weren’t you supposed to be minding the cooking?” he added with chastisement.

            “But Mamaaan,” the girl protested, paying no mind to their visitor. “You can’t save during boss battles you know and I was right in the middle of a fight when you asked.”

            “It’s alright, Sasaki!” a second voice chimed in, this one lighter yet more androgynous than the first. “I took over since Saiko was busy with her game.”

            The two-toned investigator sighed in relief, shoulders relaxing considerably. “Thank you, Mutsuki,” he called, turning to smile at his guest. “Looks like dinner is going as planned, after all! Come, Amon-san, let me introduce you to ‘my children’.”

            The older investigator listened respectfully as each of the four Quinx were presented to him. The first was the pigtailed girl, Saiko Yonebayashi, with her sleepy expression and pouty lips. She struck him as possibly lazy, but he’d also known kids in the Academy like that who were beyond intelligent. The second was Tooru Mutusuki, a handsome boy with warm skin and a gentle blue eye. A simple eyepatch covered the other, and it took no guesswork on Amon’s part to realize that’s where the boy’s kakugan resided. He immediately noted the closeness the Quinx had to Sasaki, and wondered just how long the two had been working together. The next member was a slouchy-looking boy with uneven hair by the name of Ginshi Shirazu. His lopsided smile reminded Amon of a shark for reasons he couldn’t quite identify. Lastly was the quiet and reclusive Kuki Urie, a dark haired boy with odd markings under one eye that seemed to have no interest in the goings-on around him. He took out a single earbud long enough to say a curt hello before popping it back in and meandering off, casting dour looks at his compatriots. The troubled look it caused his superior didn’t go unnoticed by Amon, either.

            Properly acquainted, the eldest investigator was led to the kitchen, after which Sasaki promptly rolled up his sleeves and tied an apron about his waist. With ease, he bustled about the space, gracefully weaving between Quinx members and open drawers and cabinets, making his motions into more of a dance than anything. He hovered over one pot then another, sniffing experimentally while wearing a mask of pleasure. From time to time, he’d dip a spoon into his cooking and offer it to Saiko or Mutsuki, letting them give feedback and adjusting accordingly.

            ‘ _He can’t even taste or enjoy the things he cooks,’_ Amon realized belatedly. ‘ _And to think that he was human once… even if he can’t remember it, it must be painful to see everyone else enjoy something that is so repugnant to oneself. He seems to try really hard to act human now.’_

            As if catching the man’s train of thought, Sasaki turned to him, spoon in hand. The faintest of shyness about him, he offered it to the other, forcing the same smile as before. “Amon-san, will you try this for me, please?”

            With a hint of embarrassment, the investigator leaned forward and accepted the proffered food. It wasn’t so unlike girls in high school asking their crushes to try their cooking, was it? ‘ _I’m being ridiculous again,’_ he criticized himself. But watching Sasaki’s hopeful face, he wasn’t quite so sure.

            “It’s delicious,” he complimented.

            “Really?” the other pressed, cocking his head to one side. “You’re certain?”

            “Absolutely,” Amon nodded. “You seem really skilled at this, if a compliment from me means anything, that is.”

            Sasaki returned with his soft laughter and assured him the compliment was well received, regardless of his superior’s cooking abilities. “Amon-san?” he queried, scooping food from a pan into a serving plate. “What were you making the chicken for, exactly?”

            “Bonenkai.”

            “Forget-the-old-year party? I didn’t hear about one where you had to bring food…”

            “It’s just for senior investigators. That’s right, you’re not quite First Class yet. I imagine that will change soon, though.”

            “Well I do have an application for promotion,” Sasaki returned modestly. “I’m more concerned that my squad gets the recognition they deserve.”

            “That’s noble.”

            “Not really, I think. They’ve been working hard, is all, and that should be rewarded.” A frown knit the man’s brow as he considered something. “As it is, aren’t bonenkai hosted at restaurants and things? If it’s a drinking party, where is all the alcohol coming from?”

            “Ah, well. Due to the nature of this party, everyone was asked to bring a home cooked dish as well as some sake or something. The one is easy, given that it’s store bought, but… well, you saw how my attempts went.”

            “I guess that means you’re looking forward to the department-wide party, then?” Sasaki teased.

            “Yes!” Amon exclaimed. “Arima-san said that he’d booked one of the finer restaurants in the first ward, though he’s being coy and won’t let anyone know where exactly yet.”

            “Well, he’s like that, isn’t he?” the other hummed. “He acts indifferent and modest, but he’s the type of guy that enjoys delivering big news with a straight face.”

            “You’re close with him, aren’t you?”

            “Well, I don’t know if I would say ‘close’,” Sasaki pondered, resting a hand on his chin. “But if Akira is like my mom, then Arima is like my dad. We make a good family, don’t you think?”

            “It certainly is unconventional.”

            “Well, some of the best families are. Isn’t that right, Mutsuki?”

            The short haired boy perked up immediately, grinning shyly. “I think so, Sasaki.” Untying his own apron and depositing it on the counter, he turned to pick up a warm plate of rice. “Should I bring this to the table?”

            “Go ahead,” the elder nodded. Then, turning to the majority of the home, yelled, “Alright guys, it’s dinner time!” His call was met by a chorus of cheers, and Amon couldn’t help himself but to smile. The whole scene was so oddly domestic.

            ‘ _One day I’ll have a family like this: a partner, kids. God, I hope I live that long.’_

            “May I help take things out?” he asked instead, permitting himself a peek at the life he so craved.

            “If you wouldn’t mind,” Sasaki consented. “Those vegetables there could be brought over, but please, make yourself at home: you’re our guest this evening.”

            “That’s very kind of you, though I’d like to do my part as well. As it is, I didn’t help with the cooking. Although… I suppose that was for the best.”

            Sasaki laughed, shooting the ceiling a thoughtful look.  “For the bonenkai, do you have to bring chicken in particular? Was it assigned to you?”

            “Well, no, I just assumed it might be the easier thing to prepare, seeing as it doesn’t really have ingredients or anything. It’s two days from now, right after Christmas day, but I’m determined not to cave and just bring KFC.”

            “I can do you one better,” Sasaki promised proudly. “I’ll help you make it after dinner.”

            Curious by the enigmatic response, Amon did as he was bade, finding himself a seat at the end of the table and waiting patiently as the home’s occupants filed in. They went immediately to their places – a little indicator of routine – and looked around for Sasaki’s go ahead to dig in. Once everyone was seated, they said the customary thanks and began the meal.

            “So, how was everyone’s day today?” Sasaki started off, picking up his chopsticks.

            “I bought a couple of new books from the store,” Mutsuki offered politely. “One is just a book of hidato, but the other two are fiction.”

            “Oh yeah? What author?”

            “Sen Takatsuki,” the boy replied. Sasaki stiffened a moment before smiling.

            “Really? What an interesting choice.”

“Well, I know that you and Arima-san read them, so I thought I’d pick up my own copies.”

            “That’s flattering,” Sasaki intoned, eyes flickering to Amon and dropping quickly. “What about you, Shirazu? Do anything interesting today?”

“Ah…” the boy in the jumpsuit deliberated. “I tried making some paper cranes, I guess.”

“Cranes?” Mutsuki repeated curiously. “Like senbazuru?”

“Whatcha gonna wish for?” Saiko beamed impishly.

“Well… ah, I tried, anyway,” Shirazu dodged, flushing. “It didn’t turn out much like a crane, so I probably won’t do any more. What about you, Saiko? Weren’t you gaming online this afternoon?” This quip was immediately met with a chorus of low groans of regret, but it was too late. Saiko had already begun her tirade.

            “OMG you guys it was terrible. I was hanging out in a chat room, right? As a ROM? And then these guys start talking about how they’re LFG for an MMORPG ‘cause they want to do some grinding. So they choose the game and then I speak up and am all, ‘Hey, I’ll join your PUG I’ve got a Tank and a Rezzer, what do you want me as?’ So they say ‘Tank’ and I think we’re going to be doing some farming and log on. We TP to the right map and then we have to deal with DC problems and finally we start and there’s monsters INC all over the place. So I realize these guys are total scrubs because they’re dinging me every twelve seconds and I’m pretty much PvM the entire time, dealing with the agro of the MOB. So then my phone rings, and I have to answer it, so I’m like, ‘AFK, guys’, and when I come back I realize one of them is a freaking PKer and they just used me to get all the XP and loot.”

            “Well that sounds very frustrating,” Sasaki commented diplomatically.

            “Uuugh it _was_ ,” Saiko nodded with a pout. “So then I switched over to the Vita and remembered I was right before a boss fight and that’s when you asked me to watch the cooking but I was OOM and had to be careful so Mucchan did it for me.”

            Amon leaned slowly over to his right where Urie was picking at his hamburger steak. “Did you understand _any_ of that?”

            “More than I’d like to admit,” he replied with a look of distaste.

            “We’ve sort of learned by necessity, but it’s still gibberish to me,” Shirazu chimed in, overhearing the discourse.

            “It’s not _that_ hard to understand!” Saiko insisted, puffing her cheeks. “At least Maman gets me!”

            Amon looked up just in time to see Sasaki faintly shaking his head that no, no he didn’t. Amon smiled to himself and continued his meal.

            “Urie, what about you?” Sasaki prompted. The dark haired boy groaned under his breath and shrugged a little.

            “Nothing, really. Finally listened to the whole of Namie Amuro’s new CD. It was pretty alright.”

            “You know the music video for ‘B Who I Want 2 B’ features Miku Hatsune?” Saiko chimed in excitedly. “It’s really cute!”

            “I think so, too,” Mutsuki concurred. “I like ‘Golden Touch’, personally.” The conversation derailed from there, flowing naturally and eventually pulling each member in to participate. Amon watched appreciatively at the happy little scene: truly this was what a family looked like, even if they weren’t related and even if they were part ghoul. It was almost disconcerting how right he felt among them.

            ‘ _This really is what I want for myself,’_ he concluded. _‘I want to find this kind of happiness.’_

            As the meal concluded, everyone brought their dishes to the sink and began to wash up. It was clear that they all had a familiar routine: Mutsuki washed while Saiko dried and Urie put away, leaving Shirazu to clean the table and Sasaki the counters. Finished with their chores, the younger investigators went to the entrance and began grabbing for their coats.

            “Where are you all headed?” Sasaki queried.

            “We’re going to see the Christmas lights!” Saiko beamed.

            “I’m going to go train,” Urie countered.

            “Oh no you’re not,” Mutsuki frowned. “You’re coming with us, you promised.”

            “Maman, make him!”

            “Come on, buddy, it’s only fair,” Shirazu added.

            “Have fun you four!”

            “Ugh! Fine!”

            With a chorus of laughter and a resounding click they were out the front door and into the snowy Tokyo evening. Sasaki settled himself against the kitchen counter, looking affectionate. “They’re something else, those kids.”

            “You’re hardly older than they are,” Amon laughed. “Calling them ‘kids’, really.”

            “I know, I know,” the other chuckled, straightening to start fishing around in the cabinets. “It’s hard not to, though. They still have so much to learn. Besides, they’re so…”

            “Innocent?”

            “Inexperienced, yeah. Like…” there was a weird twist of Sasaki’s lips. “Like life hasn’t beaten them down yet. They’re still naively optimistic. It’s… refreshing.”

            _‘You’re too young to be thinking like this,’_ Amon mourned. ‘ _If you only knew half the things you’ve endured, would you even be this okay?’_

“I know what that’s like,” he said instead. “Besides, having someone to mentor forces you to think and tackle problems in different ways.”

            “That’s right, you mentored Akira,” the younger laughed. “That must have been a struggle.”

            “It was,” Amon returned flatly. “She’s always been headstrong and slightly imperious.”

            “Well it suits her well in her position now?”

            “It certainly does – she’s had more than her fair share of disparaging comments. You, too.”

           “Ah, well thank you for that,” Sasaki returned, flustered. “It’s nothing, really. It’s all that should be expected. Now you, on the other hand, I expect a bit more of,” he teased, showing off a mixing bowl and wooden spoon.

            “Oh?” Amon smirked, cocking a brow. “I wouldn’t be too hopeful, you know.”

            “Nonsense. Like I said, anyone can cook with the right resources,” the other disagreed, moving to the counter and setting up for the two of them. “We’re going to be making Christmas cake. I know it will be a day late for your bonenkai, but I doubt anyone will bring one because it’s so often store bought.”

            “Hah, does that make me the dad of the CCG, then?” the elder teased. “Christmas cake is usually the thing the father picks up for the family on the way home from work.”

            “Well this one will be handmade,” Sasaki asserted. “And near everyone loves Christmas cake. Unless they don’t like sweet things, I suppose. What about you, Amon-san? Do you like sweet things?”

            The older man flushed, scratching at the back of his hair. “Actually I really like sweet things,” he confessed. “I know that’s not really becoming of a guy, but I guess it can’t be avoided.”

            “Oh? What’s your favorite, then?”

            “…Doughnuts.”

            “That’s surprisingly cute of you, you know.”

            “Cute!?”

            “You heard me. Now, let’s start with mixing these…” Sasaki began to direct their movements, guiding Amon through the process of combining and measuring the ingredients. He laughed at the older man’s awkwardness with the process, kindly showing him the proper way to do things and guiding his hands with his smaller, less calloused ones. It was intimate in a way, hands cradled together as they began to bake in tandem. Sasaki’s touches were light: a brush of fingers to the wrist, the ghosting of hands on a hip, a fleeting press on the shoulder. His presence was always unimposing but never solid enough. Amon soon found himself eager for each interaction, feeling a pleasurable rush of chills at each one. If Sasaki noticed, he never let on, always too transitory in his movements.

            Before long, they had finished making the batter and had poured the mixture into a round pan, setting it in the warmth of the oven. “We have a while before we can continue,” Sasaki commented lightly. “It’s going to take at least twenty minutes to bake, and then it’s got to cool completely before we can halve and frost it.”

            “Okay,” Amon returned as neutrally as possible. He wanted those hands to return as soon as possible, perhaps fisted up in his shirt and running over his shoulders. He looked away to keep from blushing. ‘ _I’m such an embarrassing guy, getting flustered at the littlest things.’_ It wasn’t that he was inexperienced per se, merely that those experiences had been few and far between. During his days at the Academy, he’d always contended that he didn’t have time to date or that it didn’t interest him. Mostly it was that he was too embarrassed to admit that he’d never actually dated before, even into his twenties. That score was still the same at age thirty.

            “How should we distract ourselves?” Sasaki questioned, not helping his superior’s racing thoughts any.

            “Uh, well, we could…” Amon stuttered, trying to summon up acceptable non-physical activities.

            “Wrong answer,” the other interjected, closing the gap between them in a single stride and tugging Amon down by his tie and into a kiss. The older man started, caught off guard by the suddenness of the act. Sasaki persisted, loosening his grip on the tie and snaking an arm up around the other’s neck. That’s all it took for Amon to cave, moaning lowly into the kiss and drawing his arms around the younger’s waist, drawing them hip-to-hip. When they broke apart, Amon was breathless and Sasaki was smirking with self-congratulatory pride.

            “Yeah, I like that answer better,” the taller laughed, eyes searching for an explanation on the other investigator’s face. “What…?”

            “You didn’t seem to mind my advances earlier,” he shrugged. “I figure why not go for it?”

            “Earlier? When we were cooking, you mean?”

            “Mnhmn. If anything, I think you liked them.”

            Amon blushed guiltily. “You really have a way of driving a guy crazy, you know.”

            “I take that as a compliment,” Sasaki murmured, pulling him down for another kiss. This time, he wrapped his arms securely about Amon’s neck, drawing their bodies fully flush. The older man sighed into the kiss, tracing a hand up the side of Sasaki’s body, letting it rest against the arch of his neck as he toyed with the back of his hair. It was still wiry from where the strands had turned white, growing softer to the touch the further up he played. He could feel the thrum of the younger’s heartbeat against the palm of his hand where the skin met Sasaki’s exposed neck.

            They remained close as they parted, foreheads resting against one another, noses nuzzling together. Amon stared into the melted brown eyes before him, knowing one could redden in an instant. Despite his instincts, despite his training, and all he knew, he didn’t feel scared. Wrapped up in the other’s arms, feeling his warmth, the tickle of his breath, the distant taste of coffee, he felt safe. Needed.

            “I remember you, you know,” his partner whispered, “I remember when we fought that day by the bridge. I was crying and you were so lost.”

            The air rushed from Amon’s chest as relief clouded his mind. He closed his eyes against the world and leaned in for another kiss.

            “I remember you, too, Kaneki.”


End file.
